Dripped Dry

Along with the truck squashing and carrot planting that I did this weekend, I did my laundry.

Very Exciting, you say.

Really. For this first time since I left my parents house I washed and dried my own clothes in my own place.

I have officially thrown away my bonnet! Ma Ingles and I are no longer sharing the secret shame of stiff sheets and crunchy towels.

When you air dry sheets, they take on a linoleumesque quality. Very comfy. Very nice to snuggle up to. I can put on my socks with out first cracking them open, I can do my wash and wear it on the same day! No more pre-treatment! No more stains setting in unto forming their own patterns! Instant gratification. Even better? I no longer have to haunt the laundry mat. As much as I have really enjoyed going on safari every couple of weeks … not going to miss it.

I mean with all the packing up and lugging and keeping track and wild life experience I have racked up, I could be a Sherpa.

I can now fold my laundry in front of the TV like a civilized person, and not some static – y TV tuned to a Mexican soap opera, I can fold in front ofmy static – y TV! tuned to a Mexican soap opera.


Take a dip in my stream of conscience

After I get home from work and take dogger out, I feed dogger and put dogger back in her box for her after dinner chill out. I drink a coke and watch Emergency Vets and try to imagine what my vet would charge for similar catastrophofies. I change clothes and dogger and I go for our walk. Today when I went in to change clothes I noticed that my bed was very comfortable. Really, really comfortable.

Just as I was dozing off and dreaming about my imaginary movie star boyfriend, John Cusack, I felt a wet kitty nose on mine.

Oh, Kitty! Being all like a normal non-mentally ill kitty. Hello Pookie!

“Feed Me.”

It’s not time yet. Come here and be cute.

“Feed Me”

I forget that this animal’s internal clock isn’t set for “Not Time”. It is always time for “Feed Me”.

No, if I feed you, you’ll go upstairs and I won’t see you until “Feed Me”. Stay here and be fluffy. IMSBF needs me. Mummy is tired and dogger can’t walk herself, well, technically, she can, but …

“Feed me or the alarm clock is rubble”

I’m not giving in. I’m resting. I’m resting with a 20 lb fur pillow on my face.

“Feed Me or this turns into a Law and Order”

Noooooooo. Go away. Tease the dogger.

“Feed Me”

“No”

Crash/Shatter/thump

Fine.


In reality, kitty needs me to feed him on demand like he needs somewhere to store his running shoes. Kitty looks like the bastard offspring of a rental tux and a beach ball.

This weekend kitty discovered The Back Yard. He sits out there and plots.

For the first time, he can be outside unescorted - and it not turn into a Lifetime Movie with Tracy Pollen , Kitty opened the screen door and let in hysteria – the Diana Story

Say Anything is on. My IMSBF is calling me.